


Two Birds and a Diva

by Rhaeluna



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Ambiguous Relationships, Awkward Flirting, Begging, Biting, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Doctor/Patient, Dom/sub, Eventual Smut, F/F, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insecurity, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Making Out, Masturbation, Mommy Kink, Mutual Pining, Nipple Play, Oral Fixation, Overwatch Family, Picnics, Post-Recall, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Punishment, Riding, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughhousing, Scratching, Smut, Sunsets, Trans Character, Trans Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Trans Female Character, Trans Hana "D.Va" Song, Vaginal Sex, Wholesome, dom!Mercy, sub!d.va
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaeluna/pseuds/Rhaeluna
Summary: Hana pines after Angela. Fareeha helps her out of her funk. Shenanigans ensure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is build up to Hanamercy sexytimes. The next chapter is smut. Comment below with kinks you'd like to see and I might put 'em in. ;)

Hana threw a ball against the ceiling of her room. She wasn’t trying to hit herself in the face. Really! But each time she chucked it her gut sank as she watched its downward arc just before the plush projectile beaned her in the forehead. Maybe she deserved it. She didn’t feel very good. Nauseous. Kinda like someone put already soggy Spaghetti-O’s in a bowl of warm water and stared you in the eye while they pretended it was milk and downed it. Hana groaned, clawing at the sheets of her bed with her nails. She didn’t want to acknowledge that she was hiding, but she was 100% totally hiding in her room like a fucking edgelord. She threw the ball back into the air. Like magic it hit her forehead again. She scowled.

The Watchpoint was bustling that day. Overwatch was getting back on its feet: agents trained together, planned new missions, and bantered like crows all over the seaside base. Thankfully, Hana’s room was buried in the far back of the basement, making it easy for her to avoid everyone when she wanted to. Unfortunately, it also made it harder to get up and ask for help when she needed it. Not that she needed it.

She certainly did not have a Problem, a single and relentless Problem that thrust enough fear into her that she dared not venture upstairs unless explicitly called for. It was not a problem of the heart. Hana didn’t get those, unlike the wishy washy scrubs on base with her and their dating sim of a workplace. Hana with a crush? A little lust, even? Ridiculous. Her Problem was nothing of the sort. 

She’d heard so many things about the incredible, beautiful Dr. Angela Ziegler before she’d even arrived. Her medical breakthroughs, her work for the old guard of Overwatch. She’d saved countless lives over the years and lost so many, but she still fought forward like some kind of unrelenting, cosmic angel. And she was so humble! She blamed herself for not being able to save Amelie. For barely being able to save Genji. She blamed herself! It wasn’t even her fault, but she took on the responsibility and swore to do better next time. Hana couldn’t believe the stories of her determination, her will. She laughed when Reinhardt recalled Angela’s tales of daring during Hana’s third day on base. Joked, even. But when she saw her for the first time Hana couldn’t believe she’d ever mocked her. She fumbled their meeting, of course, but Angela took it in stride and insisted on giving her a full tour of the medical facilities as well as a long overdue checkup. Always working, Hana supposed. Maybe that was just how she got to know people.

Angela joked with her. Asked her questions about her work. About MEKA. She’d treated Hana like an equal and even dragged her to the dining hall afterwards for food. Can’t do science on an empty stomach, she’d said, then laughed at her own joke. Dinner was a riot of sarcasm and gossip. When the rest of the crew piled in for dinner and drew Angela’s attention, Hana was perturbed to find herself miffed.

When she went to bed that night she screamed into her pillow. Among other things. She fixed on the confident way Angela walked and her shimmering, movie-star eyes and hair. She was beyond reason in the looks department. And when she’d touched Hana even slightly to examine her Hana swore it skewed her blood pressure results. She wondered how soft it would be to tug her fingers through Angela’s hair. How warm to hold her close. 

Hana didn’t have a Problem, she assured herself. Angela just happened to walk into her life and lit her blood on fire like a bunch of stupid frat boys burning down a building. She was sarcastic one minute and poised the next, not to mention deftly intelligent. Hana had it bad; her Problem was starting to break free. 

Angela was gorgeous and made Hana’s legs weak. So she locked herself in her room. Stupid beautiful witty older woman with class. Hana thought about streaming or playing games to take her mind off the grumbling between her legs and the pitter-patter of her heart. Normally a wonderful idea. And yet. She’d tried both those things and more not half an hour ago to no avail, an entire room buried in computers and retro consoles but not one could hold her attention. She kicked a Famicom off her bed and muttered to herself.

The doctor was probably in her clinic right now. Or, wait, what time was it? Noon? Okay, maybe she was still asleep. Angela kept odd hours nearly as often as Hana. Just a week ago she’d been eating pancakes in the main kitchen at 3am when Angela popped in for cookies and milk. Scared the skin off her, too.

Hana tried to make conversation, but with mixed results. Angela laughed at her crappy jokes, thank the makers. The sight of Angela in a nightgown shook her to the core. After the doctor retreated to her room, Hana spent the next hour getting deeply intimate with the couch.

Speaking of. Maybe the whole thing would get easier if she just…took the edge off? Hana twirled the ball in her hands. After all, she was already in bed. Why get up?

She sighed and relaxed into her mattress. The ball slid to the floor. Hana reached under her pink hoodie to rub circles into her tummy and saw Angela’s when she closed her eyes. She was soft with herself, tracing the bottom of her bra and the hem of her black shorts. She imagined Angela pinning her down and breathing on her ear. Tugging her hair back and exposing her neck. Hana shuddered. Her fingers ghosted under her waistband, ruffling against her soft hair. In Hana’s imagination Angela pushed her leg between her thighs and filled her with whispered promises.

“Mmm, doctor,” Hana said, wriggling with one hand caressing her breast and another down her shorts. Her touches became rough. She stroked her length and caressed the head, sticky fingers gliding down to her base. Her breathing shortened.

The knock at the door sprang Hana into a sitting position, hands clasped in her lap in front of her. She vibrated with nerves and arousal, terror engulfing her chest. “C-Come in!” Hana called, shaking. Why now? She was just getting to the good part! The door opened and Fareeha stepped in. Hana’s eyes narrowed. The bird, she thought. What was she doing here?

“Hey there, Hana,” Fareeha said, smiling. Hana pouted. The bird wore her usual attire: a blue tank top and sweatpants. She was friendly with Angela, and Hana felt petty for holding that against her. Not that she didn’t get it. Hana tried to stop herself from ogling Fareeha’s arms. She failed.

“Hey,” she said, “what can I do for you, Fareeha?”

Fareeha shuffled her feet. “Well, uh…” Hesitation? Curiosity popped inside Hana’s brain and started dancing atop her prior frustration and guilt.

 

“Is something the matter?” Hana asked. Don’t be bitchy, Hana, be nice to the shy blue bird, you’ve got this. Fareeha chuckled and kicked at the floor.

“I feel like I should be asking you that question,” she said, “the team’s missing you. What’s got you down?” Oh. Hana hadn’t expected anyone to actually come looking for her.

“Nothing,” said Hana. She turned and let her legs slide off the bed. She really, really hoped she could stand. 

Fareeha scoffed. “You only say that when you’re depressed,” she said. Damn. Hana winced; Fareeha got her card. “So what’s the trouble?”

The pilot crossed her arms. She could tell Fareeha, couldn’t she? Be honest about her feelings for once instead of deflecting? Why would she do that? Hana blamed the arousal. Fareeha had been nothing but nice to her since they’d met, but would she get mad at Hana if it turned out she was already in cahoots with Angela? Hana sighed. She had to say something to get the bird to leave. Besides, Fareeha was over 10 years her senior, certainly she could offer advice if she kept it vague.

Hana put on her best regal poise and gestured to the spot next to her on the bed. “Ms. Amari,” she said, “do take a seat in my office, won’t you?” Fareeha smirked and opened her mouth as if to retort but seemed to change her mind. She sat down next to Hana. Up close she was magnificent; Hana gulped as Fareeha tuned her body to face her. Strong arms, rockin abs, gorgeous hair. Hana dry swallowed and cursed her gay little heart.

“So what’s up?” asked Fareeha.

“Well,” Hana began, “I’m having, uh, troubles.”

“Clearly,” Fareeha chuckled and drew a strand of hair behind her ear, “what kind of troubles?”

“Girl trou—uh, I mean love trouble,” Hana corrected. Shit. Did Fareeha know she was gay? Better yet, did Fareeha know she was trans? Probably should have confirmed she was cool before inviting her in for slumber party talk. Overwatch was just, like. The gayest thing ever. So she’d assumed. Hana mentally threw a ball at the ceiling and relished when it smacked her right in her stupid imaginary face.

“Love, huh?” Fareeha said without missing a beat, “Is there someone you’re falling for, Hana?” She wiggled her eyebrows and shook her shoulders. A devilish glint appeared in her expression. Hana scowled.

“Well yeah, what do you think I mean?”

Fareeha clapped her hands together and leaned in. “Oh, oh! Who is it?” she said, “is it me?” She winked and Hana went cold.

“What? No!” Hana said. Pharah reeled like a movie star told her they didn’t enjoy her pudding. Hana backpedaled. “Wait, I mean, of course you’re extremely attractive, hot even, I, um, well. It’s not you, but, like.” Hana stopped when she realized Fareeha was laughing at her, arms wrapped around her gut, kicking a little off the side of the bed. She huffed. “Hey! Rude.”

Fareeha caught herself. “Okay, yeah, sorry, sorry. Just fucking with you. You’re just so cute when you’re bright red.” She ruffled Hana’s hair, which caused her to growl. “But I’m here to help and not tease you, I promise. Though I’m also very flattered that you think I’m hot. I respect you Hana so you can get away with calling me that.” She winked and threw up finger guns.

Hana glowered, blushing red to her toes. That wasn’t fair. How could it be that this beautiful, jacked as fuck goddess could just walk into her room and completely disarm her? Respect her? Hana didn’t think anyone in Overwatch respected her. She didn’t respect herself. She was anti-social and grumpy all the time, she didn’t listen to anyone. An alcoholic at 19. Riddled with PTSD. Fareeha’s gesture meant more to Hana than she could ever know. Ever. Hana took a breath. Just. Continue with the conversation. As her focus returned, Hana found herself more relaxed than before. Odd.

Fareeha stared at her with a concerned look. Oh shit, did she zone out? Fuck. How long had she been gazing at nothing? Better than staring at something else, she thought, eyes flicking to Fareeha’s breasts. “So, uh.” Fuck, where was she?

“So, you like women then?” Fareeha asked. Oh, right. This. Too late to turn back, looks like project honesty is a go. Hana nodded in confirmation. “Just women?”

“Best as I can tell,” Hana shrugged, “If I’m attracted to any other genders I don’t really notice.”

“That’s fair.” A good response. Promising. Might as well get the whole nervous mess out there? 

“Also I’m trans.” Fareeha’s eyes popped. Oops. Hana cringed and readied herself for derision.

“Oh hey, me too!” Fareeha said. What? “I had no idea, Hana! Sweet! New trans friend!” Fareeha grinned and clapped her hand on Hana’s shoulder, dropping the smaller girl into the bed a few inches. Hana’s breath hitched. Why is everything you do hot?

“Wait…really?” said Hana. At times she wondered if everyone she ran into might actually be trans. Of course she'd considered the possibility for Fareeha, but she didn't like assuming anything, no matter how someone appeared on the outside. She saw that Fareeha was tall, hot, and had a deeper voice and let that be that. But she was trans! The fucking jock! Solidarity in places she least expected to find it. What?

“Yeah, really!” Fareeha laughed and gesticulated between them. Hana couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, that’s great! And like hella outta the leftest left field,” said Hana. She felt excitement boiling up and over her apprehension. Someone else on the team like her? How hadn’t she known by now? Morrison should make a fucking chart. A gay chart. With all the gays. It would just be a sticky note reading “everyone,” written in nursing home worthy block letters, “I’m…really glad though. This is so cool.”

“Right?” Fareeha slapped the bed, “do you want to hang out sometime?” Bless the goddesses, trans friendship! Perhaps Hana’s song was finally playing.

“Hell yeah!” she said, “You like games?”

“Do you mean sport games or video games?” asked Fareeha.

“Oh god, physical sports?” Hana stuck out her tongue. Fareeha laughed.

“I’ll take that as a no. You wanna bake cookies and watch old movies, then?” Oh, Hana thought, a woman after her own heart. She smiled.

“Yes, please.” Hana giggled and crossed her hands in her lap. Fareeha patted her head and Hana thought she might die.

“Hella. So who’s this girl you’re crushing on?” 

Hana crashed back down to Earth as she remembered why she’d been talking to Fareeha in the first place. Right. This conversation went way off the train tracks she’d been anticipating. Like she wasn’t going to be 100% honest now, though. Hana dug inside her heart for courage. “Don’t laugh,” she said.

“I won’t.” 

“Promise?”

Fareeha stared at her and crossed her heart in the shape of a butt. “I swear on my next three dinners,” she said. Hana nodded, satisfied.

She took a deep breath. “Angela. It’s Angela. Yeah. Weird, right?” Hana laughed, trying to hide her anxiety. Moment of truth.

Fareeha’s mouth dropped open. Uh-oh. A moment passed. Then, slowly, easily, she began to grin. A massive, cheap, shit eating grin. But she didn’t laugh.

Hana continued. “She’s just so elegant? And beautiful? And I can’t get her out of my head and like…wow?? You get me right? Don’t you two have history or something? I want her to do awful, carnal things to me, Fareeha, please don’t hate me?”

Fareeha covered her mouth. ”Oh,” she wheezed, desperate to make any mouth sound other than laughter.  
“Hana, I don’t hate you at all. I can’t believe this,” Fareeha managed between breaths, “Hana, oh my god. Hana, you don’t even, oh wow. You. Okay.” Now she was getting worried.

“What? What is it?” Hana stood, defensive instincts kicking in, “I know it’s kinda stupid but you don’t have to be condescending,” She glared at Fareeha, hurt bubbling, “and that wheezing you’re doing technically isn’t laughing but fuck me if it doesn’t still count!”

“Huh? What, no, no, no!” Fareeha composed herself, shaking her head, “Hana, listen.” She stood up next to the girl and rested both hands on her shoulders. Her grin hadn’t faded, “Angela and I go way back. We’ve been spending a whole lot of time together lately. You know why?” 

Hana failed to keep the contempt out of her voice. “Why?”

Fareeha giggled and bounced up and down, shaking Hana. “Because she’s thirsty as fuck for you, Hana!”

Time stopped for Hana Song. She saw her coffin being carried down the isle on that water planet from Revenge of the Sith. Her family sobbed and threw flowers before her. Jack Morrison made a speech. Trumpets marked her historic passing as she was lain to rest. “What?” she said, “no. No way!”

“Yes way!” Fareeha guffawed and threw her arms over her head, “She keeps calling me to gripe about it! She feels super, super bad about the age gap and power difference thing which is why she hasn’t made a move. ‘I shouldn’t want her!’ and ‘What will the team think?!’ and that sorta thing.” Hana didn’t believe what she was hearing. “From your expression I bet you didn’t expect that, did you?” Fareeha smacked Hana in the back. It took everything she had not to embrace the floor like a lover.

“B-But!” Hana said, “You! You you you! And Angela! Aren’t you together? Like, everyone thinks. What on Earth is your relationship?” She stomped her foot, “I’ve seen you cuddling on the couch! Holding hands and walking around base!”

Fareeha shrugged. “More than friends, adjacent to lovers, less than soul mates. Our relationship is weird and hard to pin down.”

“Clearly.”

“But,” Fareeha said, “the important take away here is that you two have some mad mutual pining,” she leveled her gaze with Hana, “and I wanna be your wingman. Woman. Whatever.”

Hana blinked. Did she walk into some kind of movie? She didn’t know what to think, much less what to do. Hana was tempted to kick her new friend out of her room and finish what she’d started in bed earlier. Forget any of this had ever happened. Tempting to be sure, but so was the alternative.

Fareeha whipped her phone from her pocket and began dialing. “You calling someone while we’re talking? Rude,” Hana said. The bird spun the phone in her hand, that glimmer from before appearing in her eye again.

“I was thinking about calling Angela,” she said, “to tell her you’d like to see her this evening for a possible intimate encounter.” 

Hana sputtered. “What? I didn’t, but, huh? How? Wha?“

“She’d agree, of course. She’s off this evening, potentially in more ways than one.” Fareeha put in the last digits, “I’ll stop if you want, otherwise you’re meeting her in the garden outside the west entrance at 5:30pm with a picnic dinner. Watch the sunset, exchange stories. Flirt.” Her finger hovered over the call button as she locked eyes with Hana. “So,” she asked, “you want me to set you up on a date with Angela?”

Hana was in the ground. John Williams’ score lulled over her grave as rain fell around it. She could barely move. Think. But she already knew her answer. A line from an old musical she liked about not throwing away shots floated through her head. 

“Dial that fucking number,” Hana said, “I’ve got cookies to bake.”


	2. Angela Ziegler, Thirsty Soccer Mom (TM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised smut. Here's your smut.  
> I love this ship so fucking much ah

Angela smiled. The feeling filling her like blood lightened her head. She pulled at the grass in the garden from her place on the thick blanket. The sunset was warm. Hana was to arrive soon and she could barely contain herself. She didn’t know what to think or expect when Fareeha texted her but it wasn’t long before she dove for her bed and touched herself, caught like a fish in a net of eroticism. Hana wanted her? When she came she nearly screamed in delight before remembering the need for omnipresent professionalism. She was usually quiet. On your toes, Angie! Even in the confines of her room she needed to remain Dr. Angela Ziegler, brilliant physician, scientist, and inventor. No one was allowed to hear her in the throes of passion, especially with her room so close to the mess hall. Only in the quiet could she relax and be Angie: a horny nerd in her late thirties who still sprinted from sleep like an intern with a deadline.

Hana Song delighted her. The way she laughed, her passion for technology and performance. She energized every room she stepped into. Angela knew she’d liked her from the beginning, and knew she wanted her the night she accidentally appeared before the girl in her nightgown. Angie tried to make the incident happen again. Late at night, the tired, hungry doctor wandering to the kitchen only to find the young MEKA pilot sprawled on a nearby couch in tight shorts and a sports bra. A repeat instance never manifested, but she thought about it often. In her mind, the scenario continued: slinking over to Ms. Song, draping her arms over her chest from behind, kissing the crown of her head. Leaping over the armrest to straddle her and claiming the young woman as her own.

How the image warmed her insides. She sighed in recollection, clinging tightly to the garden grass as the summer breeze tangled in her hair. The gulls sang over the ocean. Was it time for their date yet? No. Angie wanted to fuck Hana Song until the girl couldn’t walk. Dr. Angela Ziegler, however, had concerns. Hana was 19, nearly two decades younger than her, marked by war, and still finding her footing in the world. She worried her lip, wondering if she could be punished for abuse of power.

Fareeha teased her relentlessly. She goaded the good doctor to seduce Hana every chance she got. You’re both professionals, she said. Why are you hesitating? She’s an adult. Get over yourself. All in good nature, of course, but Angie couldn’t shake her doubts.

Fareeha was her best friend. Sometimes more than that. She wanted Angie to be happy, bless her soul, and she’d done right by the doctor time and time again. It wouldn’t hurt to trust her in this, right? She’d always been more social than Angela. Did it even matter what the team would think? She languished at night over the issue, writing and growling into her phone at Fareeha in the wee hours of morning. She’d been unable to work it out into perfect lines, smooth out the errors. So, she decided, without a sign of interest from Hana first, she’d wait and see. She’d hope the fiery girl with the big laugh and incorrigible compassion might fancy an old fart like herself.

And she did. Hesitation crumbled in the wind like cinders. Angie couldn’t banish the hesitation entirely, the desire to think the situation into the dirt. What kind of person would she be if she could? Not something who should be engaging in sexual relationships with co-workers, probably. Now Angela awaited Hana in the watchpoint garden, wholly excited for a sunset picnic dinner.

Right or wrong, her mind was made: if Hana wanted her, Angie would give her everything she had. Damn the consequences. Her heart pattered at the thought. The doctor writhed in her sitting position, grinding her heat into the blanket for anything resembling friction. 

Angela was reaching into her pocket to retrieve her phone (it’d been too long since she last played Bejeweled) when the girl arrived. She was stunning. Hana had her hair back in a ponytail, eyes glimmering in the sun. She wore a short, pleated skirt and a button up like some kind of schoolgirl. Oh. Oh wow. Now Angie did feel naughty. In her faded jeans and gold turtleneck, she hoped she didn’t look too much like a mom. Unless that was Hana’s thing? Angie purred at the thought before tucking it away for later. 

Hana Song stepped into the gardens, her pace quick. Angie bit her lip and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She came, bless Fareeha, the girl actually came. Hana kept her eyes on the ground and held her hands behind her back. Her cheeks burned.

“Hello, doctor,” she said as she arrived, still looking away. From behind her back she withdrew a picnic basket adorned with roses.

A romantic! Ticking more boxes with each passing moment, Ms. Song, thought Angela. “Please, call me Angie.” 

Hana finally met her eyes. She watched the girl’s face contort. Beautiful. “So I guess we’re doing this? Like, wow. Fareeha said. We are doing this, aren’t we? Whatever, it doesn’t matter what Fareeha said. Hi. It’s very good to see you,” Hana said as she wrung her hands, “I guess we’re having a picnic?”

Angela resisted the urge to stand and eat the girl’s face. “Only if you want to,” she said instead. 

“I would like to very, very much,” said Hana. She chewed the words as she spoke. Angie’s eyes darted down she saw the girl’s legs shaking. She smirked. 

“No pressure. We both know why we’re here. Let’s just…see what happens, okay? Nothing has to happen.”

“Okay.” Hana smiled and Angela wanted to wobble over on her knees to hug the girl’s trembling legs. Wasn’t she cold in that skirt? Or was Angela being seduced right now? It was getting her attention in either case, Angie mused, but maybe she was just easy today.

“Sit!” Angela patted the space on the blanket next to her. Hana stepped over and dropped her to knees, kicking her shoes off into the grass. She smelled wonderful, like a crisp morning. Angie inhaled, doing her best to do so subtly, and basked in the glow settling in. Hana scooted towards her on the blanket, Hands shaking. She kept a foot between them and was silent as she retrieved their dinner from the picnic basket: chicken salad and cookies. Angela smiled.

“I whipped this up as best I could in the time I had,” Hana said, “let me know if you l-like it.” Angela nodded and poked her food with her fork. It was lovely. A fresh, earthy taste with some bite. What was that dressing?

“Hana, it’s lovely,” said Angie. Hana blushed and looked down at her food.

“You’re just saying that.”

Angie put down her fork and laid her hand over Hana’s. The girl met her eyes, mouth opening. The doctor smiled and squeezed her hand, “It’s lovely, Hana. Just like you.”

Hana gaped at her. Too much? No. The ice broke. Giggles flooded from her chest as she buckled over. “Oh my god,” she said. Angela grinned.

“What?”

“You fucking dork.”

“I admit you’ve caught me red handed.”

Hana composed herself, the last guffaws escaping. “That was so classic cheesy romantic. Do you always lead like this?” Damn those romantic comedies. Lena would be getting an earful. 

“Were you expecting me to sweep you off your feet with memorized poetry?” Angie said, resting two fingers on her check, “Carry you to my chambers like a princess?”

“Only if I get to pick the dress, or lack of one.” Hana winked and Angie grimaced as she flushed red. More giggles left Hana. The girl extended her legs and poked Angela’s feet with her own, jibing her. 

“Fareeha was right,” Hana said, “You are thirsty for me.” 

“Did Fareeha say that?” Angela pushed back at Hana’s foot then tangled the girl’s leg between her own, trapping it. “She can be so mouthy sometimes.”

Hana raised an eyebrow. Angela smiled. “Not like that,” she said.

“Really?”

“Not in a very, very long time.”

“Okay,” Hana finished her salad and dug for the cookies, handing one to Angela. “I call dibs, then.”

They watched the sun dip beneath the horizon. Hana told Angie about her day, the projects she’d been working on. Angela laughed and offered sly commentary, picking up when Hana left out more carnal details of her afternoon. They talked about missions, the TV they never had time to catch up on. Hana scooted closer as the talked, her gestures and expression no longer restrained by hesitation. A few times when she was buckled over laughing, Angie rested her hand on Hana’s shoulder. The girl didn’t bat her away. They danced a performance of light touches, innocently testing the touch boundary. When the light finally vanished a chill swept over the watchpoint from beyond the waves. Hana shivered, the cold halting the story she was telling. Angela smiled at her. Making eye contact with Hana, she wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder and pulled her in close. Her breath hitched. Angie traced her free hand up the pilot’s leg, occasionally daring to tease the bottom of her skirt. Hana didn’t finish what she was saying. Silence settled. The gulls were distant now, their cries vanishing around the cliff sides.

“I’m enamored with you, Hana,” Angela began. If her mind wasn’t made up, it certainly was now. “I think after 6 months of working together I should be honest.” Hana listened, her own fingers sliding up onto Angie’s back. “I’m your doctor, so this might be technically unethical, but would you care to join me in my room?” She’d said it. It was out.

Hana didn’t reply. The doctor watched the darkening sky and felt her mind travel elsewhere, as if to give Hana space to think. She was young, taken with Fareeha, and Ana found out. She was performing her first heart surgery and her patient died the next morning. She was sobbing into a pillow, hating herself for not being able to see what Talon had done to Amelie before it was too late.

The girl stirred under her arm. Angela returned to reality and glanced down to face her co-worker. Her friend. Hana pushed up to meet her and sealed their lips together. Regrets of the past vanished. Angie groaned and turned her torso to face Hana, tugging her up against her breasts. Hana kissed her like she was massaging knotted muscle. Warm. Hot. Angela gasped as the girl straddled her and took her face in her palms. She tasted like candy and chocolate. Hana bit her lips, her jaw, her neck. She found Angie’s tongue and nipped it, breath heavy.

“You,” Hana said, “are too fucking hot.” She ground herself into Angie’s lap, hands tightening in the doctor’s hair. Angela moaned.

“Not too old for you, then?” Angie asked. She lowered her head to bite Hana’s neck in kind, her hands teasing their way down the girl’s sides to her ass. That skirt, she thought. It was killing her and she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about it.

“Are you kidding? That just makes it better.” Hana twitched as Angie palmed her rear. She training her nails up Hana’s spine, digging into shirt and skin with fingers like claws. The girl writhed atop her, blush creeping down her neck. “Didn’t Fareeha tell you?” she said between groans, “I have a thing for soccer moms.” 

Angie grinned and bit hard enough to bruise Hana’s throat. She yelped. Angie might have cared earlier, might have told her to be quiet. “Excuse me, young lady, but I’m a doctor,” said Angela. Hana’s noises were mesmerizing, revving Angie’s arousal like organic music. “Have a little respect.”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Asked Hana, “Didn’t think that was your thing, but I’m into it.” Angela cocked her head. The pilot smirked and tiptoed her lithe fingers up and over Angie’s chest to her throat and cheeks. Hana raised her voice an octave and put on a show. “Oh, Dr. Ziegler, I didn’t mean to disrespect you. Whatever will you do,” her eyes gleamed with sex, “punish me?”

Angie Ziegler’s heart stopped and she was a goddess of victory, soaring over a battlefield of ancient soldiers after the fighting had ceased. In its place was pure, orgiastic bliss as her people descended into revelry and celebration. The furnace in her core burned hot to the touch, shrouded by hundreds of sets of wings. Angela gripped Hana’s thighs and ripped them apart. Her hand was on the girl’s sex, hard to the touch and wet through her underwear. She growled like an animal into the crook of the whimpering girl’s neck. “You’re mischievous, kitten, but let’s see how long that lasts after I break you in.” Hana collapsed into Angie’s touch, giggles and moans escaping her wet lips.

“Yes, mommy.”

 

-o-

 

Angie threw Hana at the couch inside her lab. She locked the door behind them. Empty vials and equipment crashed to the floor as the girl tried to get her balance before she fell. Angela’s room was halfway across the base and time was fleeting. She’d slept on the leather couch in her lab often enough to know it was cozy. It would do.

Hana gathered herself from the couch cushions but before she could stand again Angie was over her, hands in the fabric of her shirt, dragging her upward into a kiss. She worked the girl’s mouth in her own, finding her tongue and her teeth and everything she could reach. Hana gripped her back through her sweater, holding tight to stay afoot. Short and soft, fire turned to magma as she shuddered into Angie’s embrace. The doctor snarled, clenching Hana’s lower back in her claws.

She sat on the couch, tugging Hana to the floor with her as she went. The pilot settled on her knees before Angie, her eyes alight with worship. Angela grabbed her ponytail. She dragged Hana forward by her hair and bit her lips, her neck, harder than before, hard enough to leave purple marks. The girl cried out, twitching as Angie bruised her flesh. Quick as she’d pulled her in Angela tugged Hana away and locked eyes with her. Her arousal was beautiful. So she slapped her. Not hard, just enough to tease, right across her face. Hana’s cheek glowed red. 

“More?” Angela asked.

Hana gasped. “More.”

She slapped her again, harder. The girl whined in her grip, small tears in the corners of her eyes. Satisfied, Angela groaned and sank further into the sofa. She tugged Hana down her chest. Angie held the girl’s face over her breasts, letting her get a long look. Letting her imagine. Then she pulled her further. “Take off my jeans,” she said. Hana nodded. The girl unzipped her, gulping as she tugged Angie’s pants down her smooth thighs and off her legs. Hana’s eyes darted to Angela’s sex, transfixed. 

“Wow,” she said, her voice low and heavy. Angela delighted as the girl fawned over her black silk underwear, her eyes memorizing her lines and flesh. She tightened her grip on Hana’s ponytail.

“Is there something you want?” Angie asked. Hana nodded, jerking in her hold. Her breath came ragged. She licked her lips.

Angela tugged her in. She pulled the girl’s face against her cunt, still concealed by her panties. Hana’s inhale was like fresh air after a smoggy day. Music. Angie tingled, heat leaking from her pussy. She tugged Hana closer, forcing the girl’s mouth to her clit.

“Eat,” she said.

Hana obliged. Angie bloomed with warmth as the pilot draped her tongue and mouth over her. So hungry, Angela thought. The girl pushed her tongue flat against Angie’s cunt, drinking her, sucking at everything she had. Angela groaned, jerking Hana closer with each pass. Her underwear was a mess. Hana nipped at the fabric and whined, begging for it to come off. Another time, another partner, Angie would have made her work for it. Really put in the overtime. But Hana? No. She clenched her pelvic muscles, hungry for direct contact as much as the girl eating her.

“Take them off,” said Angela. Hana did. “Get to it.” She was barely done speaking when the girl was at her flesh again, sucking her lips and clit. She dug her tongue into Angie’s entrance here, there. Little moments of emphasis. Angela shifted against the couch and lifted her legs to lock them behind Hana’s head. She flexed her abs, tugging the pilot even closer. Yes, she thought, yes, yes, hell fucking yes. Hana anchored her hands on Angela’s thighs as she buried her face in her, sucking up as much as she could. The girl was relentless, her face a mess. Angela groaned. She caressed her breasts, pinching through her bra to her nipple. 

“You taste so fucking good, mommy,” Hana said. Her eyes were dark. Angela smiled, broad and genuine. 

“All for you, my baby girl.” she said. Hana nodded, her nose brushing Angie’s clit. She sank back down, pulling and teasing with lips and tongue, applying more pressure. Less licking, more press and pull. “Good.” Angela was tight like wire cord, pressure gripping her everywhere. Her arms ached, her legs trembled. She was sweating. She needed more.

Angie tugged Hana out of her cunt and looked into the girl’s black eyes. Hana gasped, catching her breath. She was panting, her mouth and throat slick with Angie. She lurched forward, mouth open, but the doctor held her hair tight, keeping her in place. Angela could commission a portrait of the face Hana made then and sit under it every evening with a cup of tea by the fire. She smirked and bopped Hana in the nose with her free hand. 

“I want more,” the girl said. Angie almost laughed. Instead, she stood and tugged Hana to her feet with her. The doctor stood on shaky legs. She was getting along. She spun Hana and threw her back into the couch, plopping her right where she’d sat. Angie gripped her wrists, pinning Hana’s hands in place as she leaned over the couch. She kissed Hana again. Angela was excited to find her own taste as she took the girl’s lips. Hana shook, breath short, moaning into the doctor’s mouth. Angela released her. She trailed her fingers along Hana’s collarbone to her throat. Angie stroked her kitten’s arteries, fingernails dragging over prickly flesh. 

Hana watched wide-eyed as Angie’s hands slithered down to her shirt and began to unbutton it. Inch by inch her tummy met the air. When she reached the last button Angie hooked her thumbs in the girls waistband and tugged, pulling underwear and skirt down all at once. Hana bawked and covered her face with her hands, tomato-red cheeks peeking between her fingers. Angela licked her lips as she kneeled down to examine the girl’s cock up close. Firm and warm; it was cute. The doctor released a growl from deep in her throat and nipped Hana’s thighs, marking her further. The girl’s cock twitched hard when Angie gripped the base in her hand and closed her lips around the top. 

Hana keened. Angela pumped with her hand as she smothered Hana’s cock with her tongue, drawing it repeatedly into her warm mouth. The girl tasted nice, for what it was. The bliss came when Hana begged for her. Called her name. Angela gripped harder, deepening her strokes until she was taking all of Hana into her mouth on each pass. She swirled her tongue against the head, around the back, up and down the base. Angie sank down again and paused, cradling the girl’s cock in her throat. Hana couldn’t look away, fingers covering her mouth. The doctor growled with Hana’s sex still in her mouth and dragged her nails over the girl’s tights, clawing harder where she’d left bite marks. Hana threw her head back. Every muscle she had thrummed at once.

Angie drew her mouth off Hana and smiled, licking up the strands that fell between them. Hana’s covered her face again, eyes shut tight.

“Oh god,” she said, “You’re the real fucking deal holy fucking fuck.” 

Angela hummed in approval. “I’m going to ride you now,” she said.

Hana blanked. Angie thought she’d broken the girl when Hana snapped back and nodded. “Yes, please, please mommy, Angie, doctor, whatever. Fuck yes.” The doctor smiled.

“There’s a good girl.”

Angela straddled her. She met Hana’s eyes and smiled, marveling at the girl’s lust. She pumped Hana’s cock a few times, slicking it as much as she could with the girl’s wetness. When she was ready, Angie positioned Hana against her entrance and slid down. The girl exhaled like the wind had been knocked from her. Angie drew down and clenched her abs until she was flush with Hana’s pelvis, all of her cock buried inside Angie’s cunt. It was a good fill. Angela moved, pumping herself on Hana. She grinned as sparkly, tingling sensations shot up her spine. So warm.

“Jesus christ, doctor,” said Hana, “I think I might love you.”

“As a good kitten should,” Angie replied. She grabbed the bottom of her sweater and tugged it over her head. Angela swayed back and forth for Hana as she undid her bra and tossed it aside, her breasts resuming their natural position. “You can touch,” she said, watching Hana stare. The girl’s hands were on her, kneading her breasts hard. Hana sat up and pushed herself flush against Angela. She sucked her, giving each nipple equal attention. Angela rose and fell on the girl’s cock, filling her pussy with Hana.

The coil inside her was wringing, clenching in deeper upon itself. Angie heaved, her breath tight. She gripped the back of the couch for support. She fucked herself on Hana, tugging the girl inside with flexes of her pelvic muscles.

“Angie,” Hana moaned. The doctor sped up, thrusting down on Hana with grit teeth. The couch bounced underneath. Hana reached between them and stroked Angie’s clit, pushing down hard to the time of Angie’s thrusts. Angela laughed, unable to contain herself. Warm pleasured boiled in her veins. She kissed Hana, stealing the girl’s lips away from her breasts as she rode her, pounding herself hard onto Hana’s lap. Angie’s arms ached as she held the back of the couch for support.

“Mommy, I think, fuck, I think I’m gonna come?” Hana said, barely above a whisper, caught between moans.

“I’m getting there, too,” said Angie, “you’re going to come first.”

“Okay.” Angela grimaced. She pinched the girl’s cheek, “Ah, I mean, yes mommy!”

“That’s better. Now come for your mama.”

Hana gripped Angela’s thighs as she flew towards climax. She shuddered beneath Angie as she began to thrust into her. Her cock slid so easily. Slap, slap. Hana was unable to keep Angie’s rhythm. She pushed hard, tightening her grip as she buried herself in Angie. So deep. Warm and tight. Angela could tell she was close. Hana’s cry filled the lab as she came, thrusting one final time as deep as she could go. Her muscles failed and every inch of her trembled. She panted, tensing as lingering waves of orgasm pulsed through her. Angie pulled her into a kiss. The girl’s shaking hands climbed Angela’s back and dug into her skin. Hana buried her face in Angie’s chest, several tears escaping to drip down her nose onto the doctor’s breasts.

Before Hana was fully soft Angie’s snaked her fingers to her clit. She pushed at herself, rubbing hard and fast, tightening her muscles around Hana. Pulling Hana into her. More. So full.

She was undone. She was not quiet. Angela yelled out, crushing Hana’s hips between her thighs as she came. She was young again, chasing dreams without a realistic knowledge of the type of work she’d be doing. She was older, holding Amelie in her arms, caressing her back with rough fingers. She was with Fareeha, looking out over the sea. The rush of hormones carried her through memories cherished and reviled. Her orgasm simmered inside her, flinging echoes of pleasures to her fingertips and toes. She tugged Hana into another kiss. Angela let go and fell onto her side, dragging the girl down with her. She realized her ears were ringing. They lied there, side by side, on a couch in a lab that stunk of sex, cradling one another tightly. 

Hana sighed, satisfaction swelling in her chest. She caressed Angela’s face and left soft kisses in the trails of her fingers. “Wow. That was divine. You okay in there, Angie?” she asked.

Angela hummed a familiar tune. She tugged Hana close enough to hear the thunder of her heartbeat. The girl’s hands found her sternum, resting just above her breasts, feeling for the rhythm. Angie nodded into the Hana’s hair.

“This was fun,” Angela said, “thank you. You’re so, so lovely.”

“Fuck yeah,” said Hana.

“Would you like to do it again sometime?” Her eyes found the ceiling.

“I would really like that,” Hana said. She inhaled like she was about to speak, and then paused. Angie kissed her forehead in encouragement. “Can we do this…but also other things? I wanna be able to just. Hang out too. And maybe we could hang out with Fareeha? All talk together? I don’t want us to stop doing friend things just because we’re fucking now.”

“Of course, Hana.” She met the pilot’s eyes. “This doesn’t change anything about our normal dynamic unless you want it to.” Angela stroked Hana’s cheek, pouring her love into her as best she could. She hoped it was enough. She was scared to verbalize her intention. 

“Okay. Thank you,” said Hana. “I kinda think I want it to, tho. In the romantic sense. If that’s not fucked up and weird.”

“Definitely not fucked up and weird,” Angela said. She kissed the girl on her lips. “I like you very, very much, Hana Song. And I want to see where this goes, too.”

Hana smiled. “That sounds really nice.”

“Can I take you off base for dinner next week?”

“Please.”

They fell asleep on the couch in the middle of planning their date. The two women awoke again at 1am to stiff backs and a cramped sofa. Angie invited Hana back to her room for the rest of the night. Hana grinned ear to ear. They were stumbling across base in a haze of sleep and sex, arm in arm, when Fareeha caught up to them, waving two big thumbs in the air.


End file.
